


there is no more sun

by matchamarimo



Series: Modern Gods [2]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Gods, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Modern Magic, Non-Linear Narrative, Unreliable Narrator
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-18
Updated: 2020-02-18
Packaged: 2021-02-27 21:00:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,081
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22792126
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/matchamarimo/pseuds/matchamarimo
Summary: Amidst the mischievousness of his human side, the madness of his yokai side, and the disorientation from his Sight, Tendo decides to take Ushijima’s hand.
Relationships: Tendou Satori/Ushijima Wakatoshi
Series: Modern Gods [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1638580
Comments: 16
Kudos: 120





	there is no more sun

**Author's Note:**

> Just a short lil something I thought about re: half-human, half-yokai Tendo with a fortune-telling ability, and Ushijima as the leader of a flock of white eagle gods.
> 
>  **The premise and setting of this story will make more sense with the first part of this series, ‘Just Wanna Hold Your Hand’ (kurotsuki)** , but Tendo and Ushijima were only mentioned in passing there. All you really need to know is that in a modern world with different kinds of gods, demigods, spirits and yokai, Tendo possesses some kind of foresight ability, and Ushijima is an eagle god who took Tendo in.
> 
> edit: for some reason, I spelled Ushijima like ten different ways while writing this story and caught none of my spelling errors, so if you do see one, feel free to let me know!! omfg
> 
> enjoy!

The curtains around the room were drawn. It was daylight, but it’s dark inside.

The wooden floor was cold beneath his cheek. It smelled sharply of polish, and lingering incense.

The wallpaper was peeling from the walls, curling downwards from the tears in them. Thick, inch-long gouge marks carved into the floor and the shelves, wrecking the truly magnificent designs etched on them. Some of the seals around the room were shredded, nothing left of them but faint, smouldering pieces of crisp.

Tendo licked his lips. They’re chapped, a little bloody, and it hurts.

Far, far away in the house, there was movement and voices, and it was all getting closer.

_My Lords, we are sorry, we truly did not know—_

_You were given explicit instructions. And somehow, you managed to break every single one of them._

_P-please, you must understand, my Lord, he was behaving erratically—_

_All of you! Are pathetic! Ohira, can I eat them?_

_M-my Lords!_

_Stop it, Tsutomu. Pull yourself together._

_We don’t even eat people…_

They’re closer now. He scented the air, nose twitching. It smelled airy and cold, like an open sky atop a snow-capped mountain at daybreak, and something otherworldly in the back of his mind murmured contentedly. He knew them. He knows these people.

_If you couldn’t handle it, you should have never offered your territory. If you were only after the benefits of our power and protection, I assure you, after this, you won’t receive any of it from us._

_N-now see here—_

_Are you really challenging us? After what you’ve done?_

_No! No, but we do not—understand, my Lords._

A clipped caw, short and irritable. It sounded like a curse. _What is there to understand?! Your job was to protect Tendo in the temple during the Solstice! Instead, you were the ones who harmed him in the end! You used seals on him!_

_But he’s yokai! He’s the very kind that we spend our days tirelessly eradicating—!_

**_Quiet_ ** _._

The door to the room slid open. The fresh mountain air grew stronger, and it soothed over his frazzled nerves like a balm.

Someone inhaled sharply, angrily, from the doorway. “What did you _do_ to him?”

Soft footsteps. The seals around him crumpled and dissolved into wisps of smoke. Tendo opened a bleary eye, but the blur of shapes above him didn’t focus. It was alright though, because a moment later, an arm slipped beneath the bend of his knees and under the expanse of his shoulders. He was lifted into the air like he weighed nothing, eased against a flat chest, and Tendo squinted.

“W...Wakatoshi.”

Ushijima’s expression didn’t deviate from his usual stone-like appearance, but there was a single furrow in his brow, a tic in the muscle in his jaw, and his eyes blazed like bronze melting on an inferno.

“Tendo. Are you alright?”

He grinned, because this was familiar. Flashed his bloody fangs, because it made the assholes in the doorway quiver in fear. Closed his eyes and leaned against the curve of Ushijima's neck, because even though he despised showing weakness, he was tired, and if Ushijima was willing to carry him out of this hellhole, Tendo’ll take it.

“M’fine now. You’re here, ‘fter all.”

Ushijima merely hummed. His arms tightened faintly, and Tendo was, for some reason, reminded of his mother holding him once when he was young.

Huh. Must be the feeling of claws cradling him.

He’d think about that later.

* * *

“Ah, look,” Tsutomu says, pointing. Tendo is the only one who deigns to pay him any attention; Ohira is napping in the shade, wings pulled over his body, and Semi is too busy fiddling with the jug of sake. Shirabu is decidedly ignoring them in favour of staring off into the distance for some unknown reason.

Tendo leans over the ledge, following the line of the god’s finger, and oh, will you look at that? A bright little sun god, flickering his way through the pass on Washijo Mountain, so far from home. Tendo grins.

“What’s a little baby sunshine doing up here?” he chuckles. “Wandering all around alone like that, it’s dangerous.”

“Indeed,” Tsutomu says, giving him a wary side-eye. “I wonder who could possibly pose a danger to him.”

“Eyah, I don’t like your witty comebacks, Goshiki!” Tendo says. “Now quickly, fly me down there to say hi.”

“I will _not_.”

“Huhu, alright then, I’ll go down myself!” Tendo cackles, leaping over the ledge. Several shouts follow him, with varying levels of exasperation, and he’d barely managed to make it over the next one before there’s a rush of wind and wings and feathers, and Tsutomu’s razor-sharp claws close over the back of his robe and lifts him bodily into the air.

“ _Stop doing that_ ,” Tsutomu cries, huffing and puffing in annoyance. “You’re going to fall off the mountainside and die one day!”

“Kyahaha! I will not, not when you’re around to save the day!” Tendo says merrily, waving his arms as Tsutomu descends down the cliffside. The mist parts for them as they sink, slowly gaining on the glowing orange speck dashing about, and Tendo grins to himself. Looks like he’s found a friend to bother for the day.

“Hellooo there!” he calls out, voice echoing over the cliffs, and the sun god spins around. He leaps a foot into the air and his eyes go wide.

“Ah! The eagle gods’ yokai friend!” he yelps, and the stripes of orange-gold on his face gleams in awe.

“What did you call him?” Tsutomu snaps, anger flashing over his features, but Tendo just laughs, smacking the god’s clawed foot to get his attention.

“Lil’ shorty here gets a free pass,” he says. “He’s too tiny and cute! Can’t even hurt a fly!”

Tsutomu glares down at him, mouth twisted in an annoyed frown, and then deposits Tendo none-too gently on the rocky ledge.

“So be it. I’m going back up. And in the name of the heavens, do _not_ wander too far off the ridge again, Tendo. I will not come get you if you wake the hell cretins again.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Tendo laughs, and waits for Tsutomu to fly out of earshot before he rounds on the tiny god, who’s staring up at him with fascination and wonder, literally glowing orange. “Alright, c’mon lil’ guy, let’s go take a trip down to the ridge.”

“Ehh? But your friend just said not to!”

“My friends say a lot of things,” Tendo chuckles. “But where’s the fun in living if you don’t break a few rules?”

* * *

The temple fiasco happened years ago, but since then, Ushijima had refused to send Tendo away for any other major energy shifts. Not that he made a habit of sending Tendo away from the mountain at all, but sometimes Tendo’s human side reacts poorly to spiritual events, and it felt more like a hardship to keep him on the mountain than to send him away.

Tendo didn’t particularly care if the eagle gods told him to leave, even though he knew he's not welcome anywhere off Washijo Mountain. But even if he left and caused some mischief elsewhere, nobody would follow him to the eagle gods’ territory because it’s well known that if you’re not wanted by the ancient spirit of Washijo, you wouldn’t last a day up on the cliffs. He’s got no desire to flit in and out of the human and spirit worlds either; the prospect of scavenging for food and spiritual powers and carefully trying to carve temporary spaces for himself was an unappealing concept. But he trusted Ushijima, trusted in the gods, and he’d do what they ask, even if it was to go.

Only that time, he'd nearly died.

And when Ushijima told him to stay from now on, outwardly calm now but obviously still furious about the incident, Tendo didn’t fight him on it.

* * *

The laughter around the fire pit is loud and rambunctious, and just a little sharp with the occasional eagle's screech.

" _This_ one was from my battle with a snake god when I was a fledgling," Kawanishi says, turning his leg to show them. The two large puncture wounds, healed but still evident, looked deep in the firelight. "His fangs were the sharpest I'd faced."

"Did you eat him?"

"I dropped him over the pass," Kawanishi bemoans. "He would've been a good meal."

More laughter.

Ushijima's thigh is solid and warm against the back of his neck, and Tendo wiggles comfortably against the foliage. His sake dish is empty and sticky and his mind is stuffed with warm cotton, but he’s at ease.

“What about you, Tendo?" Someone asks. "Have you got any battle scars?"

"Me?" Tendo hiccups, and taps his chin thoughtfully. "Hmmm...so many!"

Calls sound from around the fire, merry and bright.

"Show us!"

"Aye, prove your words!"

"Eyah," Tendo huffs. He shakes back the sleeves of his robe and shows off a gouge in his elbow. "This came from our friendly Goshiki! When he tried to aim for my shoulder during a wrestling match but missed!"

Tsutomu squawks, embarrassed and annoyed now that his clumsiness was revealed. Smirking, Tendo turns his arm, showing off a burn on the inside of his forearm.

"This one came from the old fire pyres down by the harbour territories," he says.

"Hellfire," Semi says, sounding impressed against his will. "How in the world did you get close enough to it?"

"Oh, you know lil ol' me, I'm an adventurer!" They villagers chased me, Tendo doesn't say. They wanted me dead, he didn't tell them. And there are so many more scars all over his body as a result of not being wanted; tiny scrapes on his knees and elbows from when his childhood bullies pushed him to the ground, an assortment of old cuts and marks from the time he spent wandering between the countryside and the city, trying to find somewhere to stay but getting chased out regardless once mortals and gods realized what he was. Little indents in his palms from when he clenches his hands into fists and accidentally brings forth his yokai claws, scabs on his lips from when his fangs pierce the delicate skin when they slip out. He’s a mess on his human side and his yokai side, and his body can only struggle to keep up.

“What of those fang marks on the back of your neck?” Tsutomu calls. “There must be a story there!”

Tendo stills; Ushijima, perceptive as always, rests a hand on Tendo’s thigh and turns to Tsutomu.

“Perhaps we should speak of another—”

“That’s from my mother dearest,” Tendo sing-songs. He chuckles to himself and turns languidly across Ushijima’s lap; he smells like smoke and cool air and the outdoors just before snow falls. Tendo closes his eyes and sits up unsteadily. Ushijima’s warm hand barely catches him by the waist, but Tendo hardly notices. He shucks the top of his robe off, letting it slide down his back so the others could see the near-perfect set of teeth marks at the vulnerable spot on the back of his neck. “When I was five, she tried to eat me alive!”

A stunned silence falls over the group. He opens his eyes and looks around. By the light of the fireplace, he can see the eagle gods’ expressions, all ranging from varying levels of shock. Semi has a pained, pinched look on his face. Tsutomu looks stricken. Even Shirabu looks disturbed, his mouth turned down in a severe frown.

Yokai are notoriously protective of their offspring, their own flesh and blood; for one to nearly eat their own youngling is nearly impossible, and to the eagle gods, an act so despicable it's nigh unheard of. But Tendo supposes his mother must’ve smelled the human half of his father on him, the scent oh so sweet and enticing, and before either of them knew what was happening fangs had closed on the back of his neck and he was screaming and—

Ushijima’s hands come up, lifting the folds of Tendo’s robe, and carefully re-arranges them back over his shoulders.

“I think that’s enough for now,” the God says, his voice low and deep, and Tendo hums, leaning back over to make himself comfortable on Ushijima’s thigh once more. He closes his eyes, letting sleep tempt him, and after a while, the conversation picks up around the fire again, though it was softer than before.

He feels Ushijima’s palm against the back of his neck, as warm as a brand, carefully shielding the scar from view.

* * *

He was a bloody mess from head to toe, pushed to the brink of his mental capacities by the surging storm around him. The power that streamed into one side of him and threatened to rip his other half to pieces was a sweet torment—he was so hungry, but he couldn’t eat. He was ecstatic at the energy he’s absorbing, but he was writhing in agony, hunched over from the pain.

The god stood before him, weathering the violent storm without any signs of discomfort. His wings were majestic and white and powerful. This god was beautiful.

He was so jealous. His fangs hurt and his claws hurt and his scales hurt and his head and eyes and nose and his _whole_ _body hurts_.

“Tendo Satori?”

Ah, he wanted to eat that god. He wanted to fall to his knees before that god. He wanted to challenge him for this territory. He wanted to whisper a prayer and beg for relief.

A hand appeared before him, steady and open.

“Come with me.”

* * *

When he finally comes to, he’s lying amongst sheets and pillows, all of them soft and silky to the touch. There’s sunlight streaming through an open window, and a soft breeze pushes the curtains aside lazily. The air smells light, like fresh fir and spring, and Tendo sighs, snuggling further into the softness. He’s comfortable because he knows exactly where he is—there’s a little cabin on the East side of Washijo mountain, one built specifically for him to use. It’s a safe place.

“Tendo.”

He feels rather than hears Ushijima sit in the nest beside him—ha ha, a nest. The eagle gods have no use for human comforts like cushions and blankets, but they knew humans did, and had gone out of their way to gather the most glorious collection of mis-matched items they could for Tendo’s use. It was, most aptly put, a wonderful nest.

A hand reaches out and strokes his hair back. Tendo nuzzles up to it.

“Wakatoshi,” he hums, and cracks open an eye. Ushijima hovers over him, checking him over for any signs of discomfort, and when Tendo only yawns widely and pushes himself upright, Ushijima holds out a goblet filled with spring water. Tendo takes it eagerly, aware of how parched he is.

“How do you feel?”

“Eh, alright,” Tendo shrugs. His back smarts a little, and he twists to stretch it out. “What happened?”

The vision had hit hard and suddenly, but his body and head weren't all too sore, so it must’ve ended quickly. It _had_ been a while since he’d fully blacked out from one though, so he hoped someone was around to hear him babble whatever nonsense he’d seen, because he sure as hell can't remember anything.

Ushijima takes the goblet back once he’s done drinking, and pushes a bowl of fresh fruits into his hands. “You were headed down the mountain with Semi and Shirabu when you foresaw. You fell and hit your head, however, and suffered a seizure. They brought you back up the mountain.”

“Wow,” Tendo says, popping a few grapes into his mouth. He definitely doesn't remember that, but if there was any lasting damage on his human side, his yokai half would’ve probably healed it already. “What did I predict?”

“A Surge,” Ushijima says, and Tendo perks up. “A very, very powerful one, and it’s arriving early, apparently.”

“My oh my,” he grins, toothy. “We haven’t had one in a while! How long ago was the last one, five, ten years ago?”

“Eight, if I’m not mistaken,” Ushijima says, looking away. “Everyone’s been vying to speak with you about your prediction, but I’ve banned visitors for now. This time, you will stay with us on the mountain.”

Ah, yes. The last Solstice, and the Surge that came with it. The temple. The seals. The pain, like fire licking away at his skin, as they tried to seal his yokai side but only succeeded in trapping half of him. His human side had tethered him to the human world, leaving him caught between two dimensions that fought to tear him apart. That had been fun.

“Aw, Wakatoshi, you big ol' sap,” Tendo teases, waving a slice of orange in front of the stoic God. “You’re actually very sweet on me, aren’t you?”

Ushijima turns, takes Tendo by the wrist, and lowers the fruit. The bowl is pushed aside, and Ushijima is climbing over him, easing Tendo back down against the pillows and the cushions. A furin chimes somewhere outside, the sound mystic and bright for the mid-morning.

Ushijima presses their lips together, firm and to the point as usual, and Tendo grins up to the kiss, wrapping his arms around Ushijima’s neck. He fumbles with the tie around Ushijima’s robes, unashamedly running his hands along defined muscles and the junction of wings to back as he pushes the robe off. The God is used to leading, used to being the powerful deity in charge, but Tendo likes to bite back sometimes, challenge him, bother the king of the sky with little nips and teases. And Ushijima indulges him, lets him play, and welcomes Tendo’s antics. 

“Stay with me here, Satori,” Ushijima murmurs, voice low and throaty, and Tendo sighs, relaxing into the nest. The yokai half of him rumbles in content, happy to have a space to himself, and his human side simply feels calm. The panic and exhaustion from the years and years spent running in all directions fades away with each touch and each press of lips, and Tendo, in all his entirety, is at ease.

Everyone wants a piece of him, even if they’re afraid of him, hated him, or wanted to devour him.

But Wakatoshi reached for him; held him, carved out a space for him, and welcomed him—the monster nobody wanted.

And so Tendo takes his hand, and stays.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm actually quite fond of this AU and I've defs got more thoughts about this series...so maybe I'll continue it sometime in the future!
> 
> Thanks for taking the time to read!


End file.
